I followed him silently whilst taking in the hustle and bustle of the airport. My gaze kept wandering back to my hand in his grasp as he closely pulled me alongside him. I turned away with a gulp, trying not to think about it because it felt so normal, so easy, so comfortable. I sneaked a glance at him at the check-in, where he was showing my documents to the lady at the counter.

Why is he like this? Why is he being so caring and protective of me? And so gentle? This isn't what I had in my mind when I married him. I married him, mentally prepared to do everything on my own, without relying on him for anything at all. But here he is, taking care of the smallest of my things, like—like it's completely normal for him to do all this!

"Zaira." He called out and we went through the check-in procedure. In the midst of it he let go of my hand and I felt the loss, more intensely than I could imagine.

However, after we were done, he gently took my hand again and started pulling me alongside him once more. I tried to push down the giddiness rising in my chest and hammered it down vehemently.

I am not this precious, like he's treating me. Never before had I been treated in this manner. Someone so careful to my needs and so watchful of every single step I took. I felt weird. I was strong and independent. I did everything on my own and I was used to that only. But now, all this that he was doing was making me feel vulnerable. Weirdly enough, I didn't hate feeling this way. But that was the bad part. I felt like melting into his hands and sitting back comfortably as he took care of my every need. I felt myself wanting to act more like a helpless girl, someone who needed a man to protect her, to take care of her. Even though, since a very young age I was equipped to do everything on my own. I CAN do it all on my own. But....then why does this feel so nice and so right..?

I stole a glance at him who was still busy on call with someone. We were on our way to his house in the back of an uber, when he got a call from his grandparents.

"Yes, Nanna. Yes, she is here. No, you can't come. No...How is grandpa? Okay. Alright." I could hear the conversation on the phone but pretended not to while continuing to stare outside the window. Suddenly, he called me out.

I didn't have to ask him anything, since he  was holding out his phone for me. I watched between him and the phone for a moment.

"Nanna and Gramps wanted to talk to you..." He added slowly and I took the phone from his hand.

"Hello? Assalamualaikum?" My voice sounded timid on the phone to me.

"Walaikumusalam Zaira dear. How are you sweetie? Was the journey okay? You must be very tired. Did you catch any sleep at all? We wanted to come pick you up but Rayyan didn't tell us you both were coming today—" I listened to her, with an open mouth, ready to get a word in, when my gaze fell on Rayyan who had a half grin on his face and could probably hear everything Nanna was saying.

"Let the poor lass say something Ayeshe." I stifled a giggle as Grampa cut her off in the middle.

"Here give me the phone." I could hear them bickering back and forth and couldn't help but smile despite myself.

"Assalamualaikum Zaira? How are you dearie?" Grampa's solemn and kind voice sounded on the other side, this time. His voice was hoarse and it was easy to notice his ill-health.

"Walaikumusalam Grampa. I am good Alhumdulillah. Are you feeling better now?" I asked slowly. Even without looking up, I could sense him looking at me. It was making me self conscious for some reason.

"Alhumdulillah. I am already up and running. We will come to visit you on the weekend InshaAllah—-" Before he could continue Nanna took the phone from him again.

"Honey, if there's anything you need at all, feel free to tell me anytime—" I opened my mouth to say something but was interrupted by Grampa again.

"Fiddlesticks! Why would she need us when she can very well ask Rayyan—" I giggled unconsciously as they stared bickering again. When I looked up accidentally, I found Rayyan watching me with a warm smile. Feeling abashed by this unexpected occurrence, I handed him back his phone on reflex.

For a moment, he watched between me and the phone, startled, before taking it back. I returned to gazing outside the window, with my back turned to him. He talked on the phone for another few minutes.

"Yes, I have it. No, I didn't get a chance to—no, I—Yes, alright. I'll give it right now. Yes. No, I—Yes, okay. Love you too. Yes, I'll tell her. Okay. Bye." I heard him go back and forth before finally ending the call. Pretending not to hear anything, I kept my gaze glued to the window. He had just ended the call and rested his head back with a sigh, when his phone started ringing again.

"Hello. Yeah, I've just got back. Yes. No. I don't—No, today isn't. Yes—Alright, I'll let you know. Yes." He went back and forth in his smooth British accent. I couldn't help but swoon despite myself. I had always fancied his British accent since forever. That, topped with his clear, calm voice.

"Are you hungry?" I froze at that out of nowhere remark.

"You must be—You haven't had a proper meal since yesterday. Is there anything that you want to eat? We can drop the luggage home and grab something to eat. Or we can order too if that's what you want." He paused to let me get a word in but I could only stare at him in response.

"I would make you something at home but we are out of grocery. We'll have to get those too. You might need to get some of your own stuff as well. Best make a list. I might've to drop by the office for a bit, though. We can go in the evening after you've rested up. Is that alright?" He continued in that level headed tone of his, while I tried to stop thinking into the constant use of 'we & us'. The fact that it seemed so easy and so comfortable was giving me shudders.

I opened my mouth to give him a reply, but before I could manage to say something, I was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He turned away to see the caller ID and I noticed him freeze for a moment.

"It's your Dad." He said without looking in my direction before taking the call. I couldn't hear what Dad was saying but I could imagine the things being said, with Rayyan's short responses.

"No, Uncle. She is sleeping right now. Yes, I'll let her know." He continued, without missing a beat. I realised then that my gaze was stuck on him. He went on in that manner for sometime, before putting away his phone. Before I could look away, he turned to me. His face placid and inscrutable like always, as he held my gaze.

I was the first one to look away as the car came to a sudden halt. I stood outside the 3 story apartment building, while Rayyan got the stuff out. Even when I tried to help him he brushed me off.

I stood in the middle of the lounge, taking in the neat and clean house. Not a single thing was out of place. I walked behind the sofa to the other side where I could see some photographs on the bookshelf. One of them were of his Granparents. In another picture little Rayyan was laughing toothless with his mother, who was hugging him with a playful smile of her own.

He has got her smile, I thought, smiling to myself.

Coming to the last one, I picked up the frame and held it up for a closer look. It was a wedding picture and before I could do anything, Rayyan came behind me.

Startled, I turned to him with the frame in my hand but he wasn't looking at me but the picture frame that I was holding of his Mom and Dad. Suddenly, he locked eyes with me; hands still stuffed in his jeans pocket. I gaped at him with an open mouth, trying to come up with any excuse but he spared me the effort.

"Your bags are in your room. Over here." He turned on his heel after saying that. I watched his retreating back momentarily, before following him out of the lounge and to the room he had just brought me to. At a loss for words, I watched the room with a blank expression.

Is this...?

"This is your room. Mine is next to yours. And I have ordered pizza for now. You must be hungry. Need to do grocery for—" He was saying but I had stopped listening after the first sentence. I continued to walk away from him to the end of the room, aimlessly.

So he did keep his promise.

"—you can freshen up. I'll let you know when the food's here." I turned around to watch him, who was standing with his hand at the door knob. Without waiting for me to say anything, he slowly closed the door and left.

Really Rayyan. Just who are you?

I thought, clutching at my chest, trying to curb the swelling tightness.

———————

When I opened my eyes, the room was enveloped in pitch darkness. It took me a moment to realise what was happening and where I was.

I remember changing into my pyjamas after washing up and came to bed. Did I accidentally fall asleep..?

Sighing, I reached across the pillow scrambling for my phone.

7:37 pm

Did I nap for that long? We came here around 2, I think—Will he be outside?

The thought made my hand freeze on the doorknob. Suddenly, I could hear my heartbeat.

Well, I cannot hide from him forever.

Despite my constant attempts at calming down my heart beats, all my wits gave away when I opened the door and saw him sitting there on the couch. The sight was so unexpected that it made my heart race.

His eyes were focused on the laptop screen with documents sprawled across the table. He must've heard me come out because his gaze turned to meet mine.

"You're up." He remarked with a small smile and I felt my heart skip a beat.

"I didn't wake you. Thought you could use some extra sleep." He continued, turning back to his work, once again. I walked up to the couch next to him as he went on about food in the kitchen that he could warm up for me. I was staring at him pretending to listen but I couldn't shake off this weird feeling.

—Like, I needed to push him away.

"—Zaira?" Without my realising it, he had walked up to where I was standing. My gaze didn't waver as I continued watching him apprehensively.

"Are you not feeling well? You should—" He began with worry etched on his face and tried to help me sit by taking hold of my arm but I brushed him off coldly.

"I am fine. Stop acting like my Dad. I can take care—" I didn't shout, but his face changed as if I might as well had slapped him.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—" It would have been nice if he had responded with a hurtful remark but he only gaped at me bruised, before turning his back on me.

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